It was a magnificent concert that left me in awe! Despite all the distractions (I blame the venue more than those attending for the late arrivals, though I cannot make excuses for the constant coming and going and leaving before the concert is over-- alas, that's what they do in LA...) LC and the band were in absolute top form. LC tweaked new meaning out of some old favorites as if he were discovering additional aspects, added lines (I admired them but was too enthralled by his perfection to jot them down) and made those around us who mentioned that they were not too familiar with Old Ideas fall in love with the many songs from the album LC performed. I wonder whether "The Guests" was on the original set list or added to fit the occasion. There were scores of standing ovations, everyone around us (we were sitting in the Orchestra section) was unwilling to leave even after it was over. The expressions on people's faces were blissful. What a night!

They opened the doors quite late (730pm by my estimation, i was at the box office doors by 630pm, there are other sets of doors), the last show i went to there had a similar start time and the doors were open at 6pm, no audience arrival problems. We didn't make it inside until the 2nd song was halfway through and there was still a couple thousand people lined up outside behind us. The audience was a bit more talkative than i would have liked but most all L.A. shows are like this, people will pay hundreds of dollars for a ticket and then act like they were at a dinner party. Quite generous of the band to do DMTTEOL a second time for those of us who missed it.

Dance Me To The End Of Love
The Future
The Future (Reprise)
Bird On A Wire
Everybody Knows
Who By Fire (w/ Extended Guitar Solo Intro)
Darkness
Amen
Come Healing
In My Secret Life
A Thousand Kisses Deep (Spoken Version)
Waiting For The Miracle
Anthem
-INTERMISSION-
Tower Of Song
Suzanne
The Guests
Anyhow
Heart With No Companion
Democracy
Coming Back To You (mostly Webb Sisters)
Alexandra Leaving (mostly Sharon Robinson)
I'm Your Man
Dance Me To The End Of Love
Hallelujah
Take This Waltz
-Encores-
So Long Marianne
First We Take Manhattan
Famous Blue Raincoat
Going Home
Closing Time

Last edited by innerturmoil on Wed Nov 07, 2012 3:45 am, edited 1 time in total.

Sounds like the explanation for people getting to their seats late was the incompetence of the venue in opening the doors so late.
Leonard's response was typically empathetic and heartwarming
Some (sounds like a significant number) leaving even before the first encore began is hard to understand for true cohenites.

Sounds like the vast majority of the audience truly appreciated the performance though

At the age of 78, Leonard Cohen doesn’t merely saunter out onto and off the stage as one might expect - he trots. He stays there for a little over three-and-a-half hours (including intermission), assuring all that “we’re going right to the edge of the curfew.” He thoroughly surveys a catalogue spanning some 45 years to this day, all with the same label (Columbia). And Monday night at the Nokia Theater, he captivated, charmed and conquered a sold-out audience, hardly seeming to break a sweat in the process.

Cohen started touring again in 2008 after a 15-year absence from the road, and his current European/North American tour in support of his latest, characteristically dour, highly absorbing album “Old Ideas” (released in January) seems essentially an extension of the earlier tour. Yet the show wears very well, tailored impeccably to Cohen’s brooding persona in sight and sound, easily folding four songs from the new album into the lineup.

The way Cohen was lit — with his trademark Stetson fedora and craggy profile illuminated in blue or fiery orange — was almost as important to the impact of his songs as his subterranean, gravelly bass voice. The tempos were predominately slow, the pace expansive and unhurried, allowing all the time in the world to unfold and draw you in. Beginning in the 1980s, an endearing brand of dark, dry humor drifted into Cohen’s act — hand-in-hand with his descent into the bass range — and his Russian-Jewish roots were never far away in his music, sometimes bubbling right to the surface. Old classic songs like “Suzanne” sound much better in Cohen’s current voice than they did when he was in his 30s, and the newer ones hold up well against the old.

It is hard to recall seeing a showman who is more considerate and gracious to his audience than Cohen. Only two numbers into his show, he ordered the house lights turned up so that latecomers could be seated (wryly commenting, “I’m sorry that we started the show on time!”) and then, for their benefit, reprised the last verse of the second song, the darkly prophetic “The Future.” Much later in the second half, he did it again, repeating the first song, “Dance Me to the Edge of Love” for those who missed it. The sound was excellent - and thankfully, not overly loud - again, a mark of respect for his fans.

This may have been Election Day eve, but Cohen never mentioned it. He didn’t have to. He merely let some of the songs speak for themselves — especially “Democracy,” which gets a lot of airplay on liberal talk radio in between segments and whose repeated ironic line, “democracy is coming to the U.S.A.,” got a big hand.

With his versatile, unified band and immaculate three-part vocal harmonies by the Webb sisters and frequent songwriting collaborator Sharon Robinson, Cohen had one of the most comfortable cushions a performer could ask for. And his early greeting was especially poignant, laced equally with mortality and the joy of communing with his audience: “If we do not meet again, I promise I will give you everything we’ve got.” He did.

Three Hours, Six Encores: Leonard Cohen is the Nokia Theatre Man
By Richard Horgan on November 6, 2012 9:00 AM

And if the Nokia Theatre didn’t have a union-imposed 11:30 p.m. curfew, Cohen would probably have stretched Monday’s three-hours-plus (with 20-minute intermission) set even longer last night. Not bad for a 78-year-old.

Cohen’s Old Ideas tour is in support of his 12th studio album, released earlier this year. Via Facebook, Nokia concertgoer Maureen Heisner Boyd summed it up beautifully:

He sings “my hair is grey, I ache in the places I used to play” – no better definition of aging! And the way you feel, on your feet with the whole audience singing out “Hallelujah” – that’s religion. And when he sings “Democracy is Coming to the USA,” you can almost believe him. I hope so, Leonard, I hope so!

Among the many celebrities in attendance was Rebecca De Mornay, which also says it all. A former girlfriend, still happy to bask in the glow of her ex’s iconic love songs.

Arlene's account of the night is spot on. Leonard, et al were wonderful, and probably gave us better than we deserved. The doors did not open late. I arrived at the venue at about 7:05 and people were in the process of being let in. There were metal detectors and bag inspections, but I got through in about 4 seconds. By 7:30 I was in my seat having gone through the merch line, spent a few minutes with a program vendor, used the restroom, and taught another patron how to use the paper towel dispensers (don't ask). The problem was the LA crowd. I mean, yes, traffic is horrible. But this was everyday traffic, not extraordinary traffic. Many folks were very enthusiastic and appreciative with applause, etc, but the lateness, loud conversations, and constant wandering around took a lot away from the show.

One thing for which I fault the venue - there were TONS of people sitting in others' seats, so the first half of the show was a constant stream of confused people not being able to find their seats (because they were occupied by other butts), summoning ushers, confrontation with the seat-thieves, redirecting them to their actual seats much further back, and FINALLY the actual ticket holders being allowed to sit. I was in the orchestra, row E - there were only four rows in front of me (not including the pit), and yet this scenario played itself out over and over and over again in my sightline. There should have been more ushers to properly direct people to their seats (and redirect them when they somehow accidentally drifted 20 rows further up than they should be). I'm sure that this happens on accident at times, but it was definitely happening on purpose.

I live in L.A. and cannot afford to travel to see a show unless it's someplace in easy driving distance. I am desperately hopeful that he will add dates in Vegas or San Diego or even another San Jose show (that isn't in the middle of the week!), because if this is the last time I see him, well, that will be pretty sad indeed.

I rarely post here, but I had to come in and see how others felt about this show. It was Leonard Cohen, so it could not help but be wonderful! But it made me sad, for the band and for myself.

Leonard Cohen, 78, jogged onto the stage of Nokia Theatre like he'd run in from the parking lot. The singer-poet, wearing a hand-tailored suit, a bolo tie strung around a cleanly pressed shirt and a black fedora, stood before the microphone to begin with “Dance Me to the End of Love” at precisely 8 p.m.

Surrounding him was a six-piece band that included not only bass, percussion and keyboards, but a three-man string army that offered texture via a combination of violin, mandolin, bandurria, 12-string guitar and hollow body guitar. Three female vocalists lifted his voice, and his spirit, throughout the night on the eve of the election.

Many of us were just arriving as Cohen offered his initial come-on. “Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone,” he sang during “Dance Me,” as if he were sitting across a candle-lighted table. “Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon / Show me slowly what I only know the limits of / Dance me to the end of love.”

Even pushing fourscore years, Cohen remains a king of seduction — albeit one willing to lyrically describe himself at various points as “a lazy bastard living in a suit” and naked and filthy with sweat upon his brow. He's “as stubborn as those garbage bags that time cannot decay — I'm junk, but I'm still holding up this wild little bouquet.” His ice-dry wit is part of his charm, as he conveyed throughout the show.

When the opener concluded, Cohen greeted a crowd still settling in: “I'm sorry, folks, that we started on time.” Then the singer, whose face shows every one of those 78 years while the spring in his step suggests a giddy adolescent, stated his intention, wrapped in bittersweet language: “If we do not meet again, I promise you that tonight we will give you everything we've got.”

Cohen more than fulfilled his promise, and if Monday night's allusion to not meeting again was some sort of farewell to Los Angeles, it was a memorable one. He danced and swayed during “In My Secret Life.” He got down on his knees for “Bird on a Wire,” genuflecting to his musicians as they soloed, removing his hat as though standing before royalty.

Much of Cohen's approach is familiar to anyone who has seen him. He's ever gracious and exudes calm joy. Unlike fellow songwriting laureates Bob Dylan and Neil Young, both of whom also gigged L.A. in the past month, with Cohen fans got what they expected: the artist's best work through the decades, arranged in ways that are fresh without being reinventions or high-volume interpretations.

Cohen's generosity was real — nearly 30 songs worth — and it confirmed his place as one of the most accomplished songwriters of the past four decades.

Despite Cohen's magnetism, I could have watched his longtime band even without its leader. Bandurria player Javier Mas moved from instrument to instrument with fluidity. Violinist Alexandru Bublitchi managed to touch on sounds that at times suggested Appalachian stomps, Eastern European dance tunes, Latin balladry and Yiddish folk songs.

A Zen romantic who at turns spoke of love in ways both lusty and mystical, Cohen guided this band through a set that also included such classics as “Suzanne,” “The Future,” “Hallelujah,” “Come Healing,” “So Long, Marianne,” “Famous Blue Raincoat” and “First, We Take Manhattan.”

His renditions contained multitudes both lyrical and musical. This depth was evident in the elegant back and forth on “Waiting for the Miracle” between the singer and his female Greek chorus (led by longtime collaborator Sharon Robinson, with sisters Charley and Hattie Webb). For the sparse version of “Tower of Song,” which he played as the first number of his second set, Cohen stood before his keyboard, singers to his side, crooning words that described an aging man: “Well my friends are gone and my hair is gray / I ache in the places where I used to play.”

The Canadian-born songwriter delivered “Democracy,” and the crowd cheered when the refrain — “Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.” — came around.

On the song, taken from his underrated 1992 album, “The Future,” Cohen celebrated (with typical wariness) America with lines seemingly crafted about election day. As his band kicked into speed, the artist examined the country's political life while offering a glimpse into his own beliefs:

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean
I love the country but I can't stand the scene.
And I'm neither left or right
I'm just staying home tonight,
Getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

It'd be easy to keep quoting lines. By turns witty, cynical, meditative, resolved, glum and euphoric, Cohen's songs may be part of a run of dates he's dubbed “The Old Ideas Tour,” but on Monday he confirmed them to be as durable as the ages. The same might be said of the artist himself: When Cohen was finished, the old man skipped off the stage like a schoolboy in love.

Leonard Cohen smiles at the audience at the start of his Nokia Theatre performance Monday night,
the 78-year-old legend’s first L.A. appearance in almost four years.
Photo: Kelly A. Swift, for the Register. Click the pic for more

I knew going into Leonard Cohen’s return to Nokia Theatre Monday night that it couldn’t possibly be as magical as what I witnessed the first time he played there, a little less than four years ago, when he finally stepped on a Los Angeles stage again after a decade and a half away.

That was a miracle for which we deep admirers had pretty much stopped waiting. Those of us now in our mid-40s or so, who by and large initially encountered his singular music when we were in college, as other generations did and still do … well, we logically assumed we’d never see him live, ever. He hadn’t just ceased performing in the early ’90s, after all – he’d entered into a monastic Zen way of life that lasted until Y2K.

New material emerged once he did the same, including 2001’s Ten New Songs and 2004’s Dear Heather, fine additions to his catalog that, like so many discs before them, went overlooked by all but faithful critics and fans. But the resumption of his recording career was never reason enough to think such a reclusive figure would start touring again as he settled into his 70s.

But as Cohen’s lyrics have so often reiterated, whether pondering gray areas between love and lust, the intricacies of the spiritual mind or the atrocities of mankind, life is foremost unpredictable. Would he have returned to engross us in person had there not been an unexpected impetus, or would he have remained hidden from public view, making home wherever he lay his Stetson, issuing Another Ten Songs whenever more had been meticulously crafted?

As it happens, Cohen’s grossly unfortunate financial downfall – a former manager embezzled away millions that still haven’t been recouped – has been his adoring audience’s gain, and ultimately his own as well. We devotees have enjoyed multiple opportunities (three shows at Nokia in all, plus his captivating Coachella set in 2009) to finally hear some of the most carefully nuanced, distinctively detailed and richly thought-provoking songs ever written, sung by their strangely magnetic poet/composer.

Cohen, on the other hand, has had his coffers restored for doing something the firmly un-nostalgic man from Montreal might otherwise not have considered: capping his legacy with one masterful, career-spanning performance after another, each epic in length and well worth however many hundreds of dollars it cost to get in. (And man, you should’ve seen the lines at the merchandise stands. I picked up a $20 program myself.)

Monday night’s reappearance was no less riveting or generous. His exceptional nine-member ensemble (more on them in a bit) strolled out at 8 sharp, with Cohen, still spry at 78, trotting out behind them, dapper as ever in a black suit and bolo tie, doffing his hat for deeply gracious bows to his musicians when they expertly soloed.

The first set comprised a dozen songs in 80 minutes, including a well-grouped trio of gems from his current acclaimed album, Old Ideas, plus a reprise of at least the last third of “The Future,” the second selection of the night, once its seer realized a good portion of the crowd was still fumbling about in the dark trying to find their spots. (“Will you turn on the lights and let people get to their seats?” he calmly asked his lighting engineer. “I’m sorry, folks, that we started on time.”)

Indeed, the sense that his entire show hadn’t been fully savored by everyone seemed to stick with Cohen, as during the second half, after a 30-minute intermission, he opted to interrupt the usual flow from a rakishly seductive “I’m Your Man” to another robust reading of “Hallelujah” by revisiting his opening number in full. Some of the crowd was elated by that, and personally I get a buzz over such spontaneity, particularly when it’s so thoughtfully done. But the downside of that, as the show rolled “right to the edge of curfew,” was a trimming of a potential third encore that he’s offered elsewhere on this just-begun North American leg, sometimes concluded with a version of the Drifters’ Pomus & Shuman standard “Save the Last Dance for Me.”

Not to sound greedy about a guy who serves up twice as much music in a single night as blowhards half his age, but I wish I would have seen that one, too. But then I also wish I could watch that first set all over again.

Like I said, I was certain this wouldn’t be as magical, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself, perhaps because the first time was such a transcendent experience – instantly among my Top 5 concert moments – that I didn’t want to raise expectations only to be letdown. Lo and behold, I merely created a different self-fulfilling prophecy: Once the first set immediately felt like a replay (because it kinda was, and then again it wasn’t), I felt Cohen’s grip on my attention slip slightly, enough that I could now see the subtle plotting of the performance – how mostly planned poses accompany occasional improvised ones, for instance.

I also realized he’s still telling variations on the same joke. “We began this tour four years ago,” he noted. “I was 74 – just a kid with a crazy dream.” Hey, if B.B. King at 87 can be forgiven 15 minutes of predictable bawdy banter at every show, then we should overlook Cohen at 78 not coming up with a fresh one-liner.

Leonard Cohen, in one of many moments when he knelt to sing at Nokia, faces off with guitarist Javier Mas
during ‘Dance Me to the End of Love.’ Photo: Kelly A. Swift, for the Register. Click the pic for more.

Yet I was nonetheless too distracted by the carbon-copying of the first portion Monday night to be aware just how moving, say, this gig’s rendition of “Bird on the Wire” was. “Everybody Knows” seemed a bit more spiteful and vitriolic, a welcome mood-enhancer on the eve of presidential election, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a marvelously long night filled with more of the same.

I finally locked into the performance as the new material (“Darkness,” “Amen,” the soothing “Come Healing”) wound down and key wizened pieces began to surface. The conclusion of “In My Secret Life,” co-written by superb support vocalist and longtime collaborator Sharon Robinson, put the vise back on my brain: “Looked through the paper / Makes you want to cry / Nobody cares if the people / Live or die / And the dealer wants you thinkin’ / That it’s either black or white / Thank God it’s not that simple / In my secret life.”

All motion seemed to stop after that as Cohen recited his rewritten take on “A Thousand Kisses Deep,” the meditative yet slyly clever version found on his sterling Live in London set, increasingly poignant as years pass. And as the bell-ringing of “Anthem” was bridged into the second half by the witticisms of “Tower of Song” and the everlasting allure of “Suzanne,” I was once again transfixed, glued to every gravelly utterance, marveling at how he caresses certain phrases to glean new resonance while bearing down harder on others for emphasis or jazzily dancing around still more probing lines for elliptical effect.

You know, like Dylan does, only you can actually understand what’s being said and sung.

“Let me lie on the breast of your melodies,” he asked of his backing singers (including the enchanting Webb Sisters, Charley and Hattie) as “Tower of Song” drifted into the ether. Clearly the audience was seeking the same comfort from Cohen and his players, who provided cloud-like pillows for us to laze upon, lost in thought amid music that defines sublime, produced by unerring aces playing at a permanent hush.

Violinist Alexandru Bublitchi conjured gorgeous solos for several songs, especially “Suzanne” and “The Guests.” Keyboardist Neil Larsen and guitarist Mitch Watkins (once of Lyle Lovett’s Large Band) were subdued commanders of ambiance, bluesy and noir for the Tom Waitsian “Anyhow” but rightly steeped in Americana filigree for “Democracy” and “Heart with No Companion.” All the while, drummer Rafael Gayol and longtime Cohen musical director Roscoe Beck on bass anchored everything with aplomb, smartly sinking into the background while precisely keeping pace. Last but far from least, the fretwork of the virtuoso Javier Mas was simply stunning, astonishing in its dexterous fluidity, breathtaking in its lyricism.

And at the center of it all, the wordsmith “born with the gift of a golden voice,” regaling us with seductive tales and wry observations. I didn’t think it could be magical twice, but by the time he was wrenching out more combustible passion for “So Long, Marianne” and seething animosity for “First We Take Manhattan” than he had brought to anything that preceded those pieces, it was clear this performance had been something special.

He hopes this isn’t the end – “I want to start smoking when I make it to 80.”

“But if this should not come to pass,” he added, sonorously yet sweetly, “and we do not meet again, I promise you tonight we’ll give you everything we’ve got.” And then some, it turned out.

Set list: Leonard Cohen at Nokia Theatre, Los Angeles, Nov. 5, 2012
First set: Dance Me to the End of Love / The Future (plus a reprise of the final verses) / Bird on the Wire / Everybody Knows / Who by Fire / Darkness / Amen / Come Healing / In My Secret Life / A Thousand Kisses Deep (recitation) / Waiting for the Miracle / Anthem
Second set: Tower of Song / Suzanne / The Guests / Anyhow / Heart with No Companion / Democracy / Coming Back to You (sung by the Webb Sisters) / Alexandra Leaving (sung by Sharon Robinson) / I’m Your Man / Dance Me to the End of Leave (repeated in full) / Hallelujah / Take This Waltz
First encore: So Long, Marianne / First We Take Manhattan
Second encore: Famous Blue Raincoat / Going Home / Closing Time

I hope to never ever visit the Nokia Theatre again. Though the show was good, the crowd was awful. I'm working on a review right now, and will post it on my blog soon. But this was definitely the show that was the least fun for me (out of the 9 Leonard Cohen concerts I've attended). Dear Leonard, please pick a better venue, somewhere outside of Los Angeles. For those of us who are huge fans the experience was fairly terrible.

Okay, I just posted my review of the show on my blog. I had been looking forward to this concert all year, and so am seriously angry with all of the jerks who ruined it for the real fans. Here is the link to my review: http://michaelsmusiclog.blogspot.com/20 ... e-los.html - Please feel free to comment. I'm curious what others thought of the show.

tikied wrote:Am I the only one that thinks cell phone cameras are a huge distraction from the concert experience?

Not just cell phone cameras... I was surrounded by people checking Facebook every few minutes, chatting about how to record the best video... and the girl in the next seat who did not get through a single song without sending or receiving a text (really!)... I had a great seat, at the front of the "loge" area, and all in front of me was a sea of illuminated screens from cellphones and cameras... that and the "need" to go out and get drinks mid-song... Why buy a ticket if you're not going to watch the show? It defeats me....

you may be right, I may be crazy.... but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for...

LC put on the most outstanding show under such difficult concert conditions.
And like others have mentioned, I did notice his new arrangements. Keepin' it fresh.
Just gotta love that man even more after this show.

sonLeonard loved the concert and remarked, "That's LA concerts, They arrive late and leave early."
The baseball games here are referred to as "7 inning games" because so many people leave early to beat the traffic.

Here are some of my LA Nokia Leonard Cohen concert videos and clips - Nov 5,12
The shaky videos are because I was actually shaking. I was so upset and crying.
At one point I leaped out of my seat to ask the usher to move somewhere else. The lady behind me said she thought I was going to beat the usher with my cane. Ha, I never thought of that. sonLeonard was with me. I had to behave.